Ghost in the Machine
by Starherd
Summary: Time Machine (2002) fic, sequel to Eye of a Needle. Further excerpts from Alexander's journal; Inescapable Result of the events of the film, and then some. (With respect to Mr. Wells - playing w/movie, not book)
1. Prologue: Specter of the Past

Ghost in the Machine  
(Further Excerpts from the Journal of Alexander Hartdegen)  
  
  
Prologue: Specter of the Past  
  
February 23, 802,702  
My Dearest Emma,  
  
In the midst of all our progress, tragedy has struck. The rains are  
scarcely over; we had thought that there would be some time to prepare,  
some time to build afterward... but we were wrong. My plans for  
fortifications, for hidden traps far out from the village - all for nothing.  
Even the two young men serving as the night watch saw nothing, heard nothing.  
  
The children were taken last night. Kalen, Weena, Lidda, Pavo, Kori, all  
of the young children, gone whilst we slept. We can only assume the worst  
- that we have been raided by Morlocks from some other place. There is no  
trace of their passing. Needle is missing as well, but all others are  
accounted for.  
  
Mara is beside herself, as are all of the Eloi. The young men have been  
ranging in widening spirals from the village, looking for some clue, but so  
far nothing has been found. The search seems hopeless - we have no idea of  
which direction they might have gone.  
  
I am useless. I have no idea of what I can do. I find that, in this instance,  
I am incapable even of comforting Mara. I have failed - failed the Eloi, failed  
myself, failed you. I can change neither the past nor the future. All my planning,  
all my good intentions, are all come to nothing.  
  
The young men are returning, still with no word. It's a few hours until sunset.  
Mara and some of the others who have not searched since morning are going to  
try again. I shall accompany them, but I dare not hope that any sign might be  
found.  
  
Damn those creatures to hell.  
  
-Alexander 


	2. Part I: Through the Looking-Glass

Ghost in the Machine  
(Further Excerpts from the Journal of Alexander Hartdegen)  
  
  
Part I: Through the Looking-Glass  
  
February 24th, 802,702  
Darling Emma,  
  
There is still no sign of the children, and the village is curiously   
silent. Despair has taken hold among the Eloi; they had thought this  
nightmare over, as did I. I fear that they will begin to accept this...  
violation... as once again normal to them. It is the day and the night,  
I was told, to have your loved ones stolen away thus.  
  
This is different. Rather than their elders being hunted down, only the  
younger children were taken. I know little of (it pains me to say it, but  
from the perspective of our enemy, it is true) animal farming, but I know  
that a herd cannot be maintained when its young are removed. This leads me  
to surmise that the little ones were kidnapped as some form of punishment  
for the Eloi. I think that these invading Morlocks might have decided to  
try to "salvage" what they could and leave the rest of the Eloi to die off,  
either on their own or in some impending attack.  
  
It makes my head hurt to think of it. I cannot second guess these monsters  
that I cannot even consider human. The significance of Needle's disappearance  
eludes me; perhaps her lineage might have been known to these kidnappers.  
  
I believe that the children might still be alive - but there is nothing that  
I can do. I cannot accept this evil, and yet I can do naught but thrash about  
with the same futile efforts as the others.  
  
I haven't the heart to write any more today. Mara and I are both tired, and  
have barely eaten. I'll try to make something for dinner, though I taste  
nothing but ashes.  
  
-Alexander  
  
  
February 25th, 802,702  
Sweet Emma,  
  
Kalen has returned. He appeared early today, down the river, and was brought  
back by boat. He had traveled far on foot, and he was otherwise unharmed, but  
he was exhausted and has slept all the day.  
  
He awoke an hour or so ago and told us what happened.  
  
Somehow, he and the other children never awoke as they were taken, just as  
none of us did. When they did wake, they found themselves bound hand and foot,  
and sitting in boats much like ours. Kalen said that he counted seven larger  
boats, and one smaller, canopied one.  
  
They simply floated down the river, and did not put in to shore until the  
night. They were then surrounded and guarded by half of their captors, whilst  
the other half slept.  
  
Near dawn, the children were briefly separated from each other that they might  
relieve themselves. While Kalen was a little ways off from the others with only  
one guard, that guard suddenly seemed to faint, and Needle appeared. Apparently  
she had been following them on foot since the kidnapping, and had only now  
caught up.  
  
She cut his bonds with her sewing knife, and told him to follow the river home  
as quickly as he could. She intended to try to rescue the other children. And  
so he obeyed, and traveled all the day and night, until he reached us - though  
if Needle had succeeded, more children would have returned by this time.  
  
Most disturbing of all, however, is that Kalen told us that his kidnappers  
were other Eloi.  
  
My mind simply rebels at the notion that another group of Eloi would do such a  
thing of their own accord. I strongly suspect that there are Morlocks behind  
this - and perhaps the canopied boat that Kalen mentioned is evidence of this.  
When I asked, Kalen corroborated my suspicion that when he'd seen her, Needle  
had been bleeding from her nose. She had used her power to aid in his rescue.  
Perhaps another of their ruling caste orchestrated this crime? It seems likely,  
to me.  
  
From Kalen's account, we know that the children were taken south. I would expect  
some recollection of the ocean from the story, but it seems that the geography  
of the area has changed far more than even I expected in the past eight-hundred-  
thousand years. No matter; if they travel by boat, the disappearance of the ocean  
only limits their path.  
  
Some of the others wanted to set out immediately in rescue, but I bid them wait.  
I know what we must do. We'll never catch up to them on foot, now, but thanks to  
the mapping that we intended to do once the weather calmed for the season, we now  
have another mode of transportation.  
  
If we spend tomorrow in preparation, we can set out the morning of the day after.  
I can only hope that the settlement that the children are being taken to will be  
visible to us from the air.  
  
Yours Truly,  
Alexander  
  
  
February 26th, 802,702  
My Precious Emma,  
  
Another interesting bit of information has appeared, though it has no bearing on  
our impending journey.  
  
When we went to the stone-gallery, where most of the components of our vessel are  
kept (as none of the dwellings themselves are large enough to house the gondola),  
Vox was nearly livid that none of us had visited him in the past few days.  
  
I apologized that the kidnapping had so disrupted our normal schedule, but he  
said that his agitation was due to urgent news, rather than just our failure to  
visit him. Apparently another Photonic had been "brought on-line" in our absence,  
and he had been anxious to tell us.  
  
At first I did not realize the importance of this event, but he went on to explain  
that the other Photonic - that of the Library of Congress in Washington DC - had  
been repaired by someone called Doctor Taylor. This had taken place four days ago.  
Apparently, the Photonics' mode of communication was (and is) to bounce signals  
through amplifiers in orbit around the Earth, so as to compensate for the planet's  
curvature, which would otherwise absorb the signal. The newly repaired Photonic had  
been forced to wait for a "satellite" suitable for transmission to come near enough  
to use, for while there were once many of the things clustered about the world, few  
were left.  
  
I admit that it took me a moment to realize that this Doctor Taylor was not an Eloi  
of any sort. I reached the same conclusion that the Photonics had: that this person  
was either from an existing civilization in some other part of the world, or was  
some sort of time traveler such as myself.  
  
Either way, the news does not change our plans. I asked Vox - our Vox, I should say  
- to tell the other to relay to this Doctor Taylor of our location, and our plight,  
and our intended journey. Unfortunately, we were told, the Doctor hadn't returned to  
the Library of Congress since the initial repairs. With no way to contact this  
mysterious person, it seems unlikely that we will meet. Perhaps if we pass what was  
once Washington on our way - but I pray that the children have not been taken so  
far south.  
  
I am, of course, excited by the news that somewhere, somewhen, a civilization that  
can reach this stone age exists. However, I cannot waste time pondering this fact  
whilst the children are so endangered. The other Eloi understand (or pretend to  
understand, as they often do with me, I suspect) my excitement, and have promised  
to keep vigilant watch for any strangers at all, much less any as strange as I.  
  
All is in readiness for us to begin our quest tomorrow morning. A group of the  
Eloi helped to transport the gondola to the monument-area by the river, where we  
will be able to lift off. Another group has checked the silk that Needle and her  
apprentices wove, and will be tending the fire during the night, so that by morning  
the balloon will be filled with hot air. Those that moved the Gondola are now  
checking and securing the rudder-sails. Their thoroughness tells me that they pay  
more attention to my undertakings than I sometimes think.  
  
I was, in fact, run out of the area with instructions to rest well. As the airship  
is of my own invention, I am intended to pilot the thing and lead the rescue  
mission. (Apparently, my previous success in dealing with Morlocks makes me the  
obvious choice. Success being a subjective term, I suppose.)  
  
Kalen insists on accompanying me, as he is small and light, and we will need to  
mind the weight in the gondola if we are to bring all the children back with us.  
Ayer, Tull, and Madi are the rest of my crew; they are mature enough to be formidable  
opponents if need be, but are still small and light in youth. Ayer in particular  
expressed a strong desire to come because his sister Kori is one of the children to  
be rescued. I only hope that we can survive their near-constant retellings of "The  
Adventures of Huckleberry Finn Versus the Morlocks", as I've dubbed their stories.  
  
Mara begs to come as well, but I will not allow it. Besides the need to keep our  
crew as light as we can, I will not have her place herself in any sort of danger.  
Bringing Kalen is risk enough, but he understands the airship nearly as well as I  
- should anything happen to me, piloting for the return trip shall be up to him.  
  
She asserts that she is well capable of fighting, and that her healing skill could  
be of use. I understand her point of view - for the Eloi, life has for so many ages  
been short, and travel an unheard of thing. Once given to each other, it is unheard  
of (to them) for a couple to part company for any reason. But I cannot relent - it  
is simply too dangerous for her to come. It nearly destroyed me to lose you, my  
Emma; I cannot risk another such loss, for the sake of the Eloi as well as my own.  
  
I find my mind returning to that one phantom moment, in the Morlock caves, when I  
knew peace. For a long moment I saw you again, surrounded by our children that never  
were, smiling in sunlight. I wonder, will I ever know that rare peace again?  
  
Yours For All Time,  
Alexander 


	3. Part II: Stranger in a Strange Land

Ghost in the Machine  
(Further Excerpts from the Journal of Alexander Hartdegen)  
  
  
Part II: Stranger in a Strange Land  
  
February 27th, 802,702  
Beloved Emma,  
  
I have christened the airship the Liberty. We cast off this morning: Ayer,  
Tull, Madi, Kalen and I. As we are uncertain of how long our journey will be,  
we only brought a few days' worth of fruit, preserved fish, and jars of water.  
When that fails us, if we are not returned, we shall have to put down to forage.  
  
Our lift off went exactly as planned, but for one missing facet that plagued me.  
Mara had not been in our dwelling when I had awoken; I did not see her as I  
prepared to leave, and when the time to cast off arrived, she was not there to  
see us off. At the time, I assumed that she was still upset with me for not  
allowing her to join us. I asked Toren to tell her good-bye for me, and to look  
after her until my return.  
  
Imagine my surprise to find her, a few hours later, hiding in the gondola under  
the blankets that we brought. I was quite short with her, I'm afraid; she simply  
doesn't seem to understand the danger of this journey. I pointed out to her that  
because of the weight concerns, we shall now have to send Kalen and the other  
boys back with the children in the Liberty, whilst we return on foot (I will  
_not_ allow her to make such a journey alone). We will undoubtedly be dogged  
by Morlocks the entire way, and will be unable to rest.  
  
And still she smiled when I told her this, saying that we would, at least,  
be together.  
  
I lost my temper, and said something terrible about her that I don't truly  
believe. The look on her face tore my heart in two, but before I could speak  
again, she slapped me across the face. She now sits in the prow of the gondola,  
and will not look at me. Kalen sits by her, and I know enough of the Eloi tongue  
to recognize that he tells her that I did not mean my words, but I am the one  
from whom she needs such reassurance.  
  
The choker that she bound about my neck so many months ago feels a great weight  
just now, as though it too condemns my words. I must find a way to beg her  
forgiveness, and still make her understand the fear that grips me when I think  
that something might happen to her. I do not want to stand over her grave as I  
did yours.  
  
The problem, you see, is that we cannot set down to send her home; we are  
already too far away. Once in the air, a strong wind sweeping down the river  
caught us, and has carried us swiftly on our way. From the motion of the clouds,  
I suspect that our trip back will be by tacking into a higher wind that flows  
from east to west, rather than this rough north-south. I hope that the Liberty  
will be able to reach that higher wind, carrying the children.  
  
From this height, I can see the ocean, a glimmering line on the horizon. It  
still exists, off to the east, but is now separated from the river by a wide  
swath of rolling jungle that trails into grassland (and probably marshes) before  
reaching the sea. To the west, the thick forest spreads to the foot of the  
jagged, steep mountains that must once have been the gentle Appalachians. I  
cannot see beyond their heights. To the north and south, the river flows on,  
wending off into the blurred distance in both directions.  
  
There is as yet no sign of any other Eloi village. It occurs to me that there  
is no reason to expect this other village to look anything like ours, and I fear  
that we may miss it completely. The boys are keeping a sharp lookout for any  
sign of human habitation - such as smoke, or odd clearings - or of the boats,  
though we have little hope of finding those at this point. If nothing else, we  
will surely see any monumental architecture such as the Morlocks' Sphinx, which  
I hope is a common method of warning off Eloi from their caves.  
  
My eyes sting, surely because of the wind.  
  
I believe I shall go speak to Mara now.  
  
With Love,  
Alexander  
  
  
February 28th, 802,702  
My Dearest Emma,  
  
I can breathe again; Mara accepted my apology. When I told her why I had  
behaved so despicably toward her, she embraced me, and asked forgiveness for  
raising her hand against me. Curled against my chest, with her fingers twined  
about the necklace that she made for me, she confessed that she felt the same  
way: that she daren't let me out of her sight, for fear something might happen  
to me when she wasn't there to protect me.  
  
It is quite strange to me to hear that, from her. I know that it is something  
you never would have said, nor even considered. But then, our Age never asked  
us to endure such a perilous life as this.  
  
Perhaps this Age is kinder in its honesty. The danger, in our time, was unexpected.  
  
That was yesterday evening, before the sun set, that I apologized. The night  
passed uneventfully; we slept in shifts, and we saw nothing below but the thin  
silver ribbon of the river, illuminated by the remains of the moon. Ayer and Tull  
passed their time quietly discussing their next story, bit said that they were not  
yet ready to share it.  
  
As the sun arose, however, we sighted something strange ahead of us to the south.  
At first it appeared to be some sort of immense bubble, but as we neared, the object  
revealed itself to be an immense mass of what appears to be glass. It is not a  
smooth dome as was imagined to perhaps shelter a city in our day; rather, it seems  
to be warped and bulbous, with a skeletal structure of metal, similar to a glass-  
house. I suspect that it was constructed by need rather than graceful planning.  
  
Whatever need drove this city to so cover itself - be it the moon-fall or something  
else before or after that cataclysm - the shelter eventually failed. The thing is  
fallen at one side, torn and broken.  
  
A massive outcrop of bare rock juts out from the ruins. Perhaps it was indeed the  
moon-fall that felled this place.  
  
As we near, Madi's sharp eyes have just picked out something in the fields beyond  
woods, previously hidden to us by the outcrop of rock. It appears to be a structure  
surmounted by some kind of statue; from this distance it resembles our Morlocks'  
Sphinx, although the construction seems to be more solid.  
  
I can see white pillars among the glass below. Perhaps we have come so far as  
Philadelphia or Washington, or some younger city with whom I am unfamiliar, with  
this swift wind at our back.  
  
In any case, we may have found our destination. We are landing to investigate.  
  
With hope,  
Alexander  
  
February 28th, 802,702 (evening)  
Darling Emma,  
  
We have indeed come upon what was once Washington. Apparently, the city survived  
the initial fall of the moon intact, and its people desperately tried to remain  
above-ground by encasing the entire area in the shelter that I described earlier.  
That lunar catastrophe must have continued for some time, however - rather like an  
earthquake that trails smaller tremors in its wake - and the "outcrop" of rock must  
have fallen into the city later on.  
  
We put down up river from the "dome", for lack of a better term, and spent the  
morning cautiously walking in. We must be wary in our approach of the possible Sphinx,  
if we are to successfully rescue the children, so we chose to approach it by land;  
it is on the far side of the city from us. The Liberty we hid, as well as we could,  
in a dell among the trees.  
  
It was the monuments of the city that identified it - white columns still standing,  
reaching like fingers to the sky - and the right-angles of what remains of the streets. Unfortunately, most of the buildings are gone, toppled and swallowed by the swamp  
that the city seems to be sinking in to. It is primarily the dome itself that tells  
us that a city died here - little trace remains.  
  
The way has been rough; we have been wading, constantly walking on submerged broken  
stone, feeling our way with sticks, and swimming the gaps that must have been streets.  
Already, the sole of my left shoe has come loose, and I've had to bind it back on. The  
place hums with small insects of the carnivorous variety, and on our way we sometimes  
glimpsed large movement in the water. The humidity only makes the warmth more  
oppressive. Perhaps on the way back, we shall skirt the city through the higher woods  
to the west, instead.  
  
We stopped to rest at a dry hill. It appears to have been a building at one time,  
but has been so covered in silt and vegetation that it barely resembles the original  
structure. It reminds me of the sketches of abandoned temples in India that the  
Smithsonian published. Of course, it occurs to me that one of these hills probably  
was the Smithsonian, long ago.  
  
We intend to rest here for the night, keeping watch in shifts as we did before. We  
cannot risk a fire, as it might draw attention to us. I must stop writing now, for  
the sun is setting.  
  
Yours Truly,  
Alexander  
  
  
  
March 1st, 802,702  
My Cherished Emma,  
  
We have encountered Doctor Taylor.  
  
Last night, I was awoken by Ayer, who was on watch. Only the thin moonlight  
illuminated the misty swamp around us as he led me to the edge of our guardian  
trees, and pointed. There seemed to be something coming toward us through the fog,  
stumbling through the water. From the sound of it, it was human-sized, and drawing  
near.  
  
Ayer motioned that I should hide, or perhaps warn the others, whilst he planted  
himself with his staff in wait. However, at that point we heard another sound that  
the intruder was making - it seemed to be muttering to itself. I must confess, it took  
me a little to realize that the voice was speaking in English - but more rapidly than  
I've grown used to. As soon as I realized, I motioned Ayer back.  
  
Cautiously, I called out, "Hello?"  
  
The sound stopped, then suddenly erupted in a frenzy of splashing, sloshing through  
the thick swamp water. The figure that emerged before us from the fog was that of a  
filthy, bedraggled woman.  
  
She crawled up onto the great tree-roots that reached from our "island" to the water,  
pitifully reaching upward and begging for help. I took her hand, and Ayer and I pulled  
her up, whence she collapsed in my arms.  
  
Her clothing - fitted pants and a jacket of some strange material that I did not  
recognize - was torn, exposing a few gashes and cuts, and her muddied hair was cropped  
somewhat short. She babbled her thanks, and of hideous beasts, and of some unfavorable  
report that she was going to give. We soon quieted her and guided her back to where the  
others slept. I instructed her to rest under our protection, and tell us her tale in  
the morning; she was only too happy to comply. I remained awake, on watch with Ayer,  
until the dawn.  
  
As the grey mist hid the sunrise from us, the others awoke. I introduced the poor  
woman as we ate the fruit that we'd carried with us, and told of how she had appeared.  
  
She then spoke, thanking us for the food, and explained herself. She could proceed no  
further than her introduction, however, before she was interrupted - for her name is  
Doctor Cassandra Taylor.  
  
"Are you the one who fixed the other Photonic?" Kalen immediately asked, sitting before  
her with his hands in his lap as he did when listening to one of our Vox's stories. The  
other boys mimicked the pose.  
  
Doctor Taylor nodded, frowning. "What do you mean, 'other Photonic'?" she asked in  
return. "Are there others still in operation?"  
  
"Only ours," Mara said, moving forward to inspect a long scratch down the woman's  
arm. I noticed the Doctor bite her lip in uncertainty, then allow Mara to take her  
arm. "I will bind this, help it to heal," Mara told her, and moved aside to one of  
our supply sacks for bandages.  
  
"Thanks," the Doctor responded, unconsciously picking dried mud from her blond hair  
with her free hand. "I take it Marian finally got through, then. She hadn't found a  
satellite when I left her."  
  
"Marian?" I asked, confused - and then realized that she meant the Photonic that she  
had repaired.  
  
"The Library of Congress Photonic is one of the oldest, the first mark III that was  
set up," Doctor Taylor explained. "She retains a lot of the mark II programming from  
before that. Somewhere along the line someone named her Marian the Librarian and it  
stuck. More personable than Vox DC-001, I suppose."  
  
At this point I began to strongly suspect the woman's origin. "How is it that you know  
so much about Photonics?" I asked. I realized that I must have sounded quite suspicious  
of her.  
  
She looked at me with an odd expression, then winced a little as Mara lay Nefi leaves  
over her wound and began to bind them on. "Why is your accent different than theirs?"  
She asked me, brow furrowed. "And why do all of you speak English at all, for that  
matter?" She tilted her head, staring at me again. "Do I know you?"  
  
"I don't believe so," I responded, but something in the tilt of her head caught in my  
memory, and I realized that I had indeed seen her before. Several months - eons -  
previous, I had encountered her on the streets of New York City, shortly before I  
first met the Photonic. Indeed, she had been the first person in the future that I  
had spoken to.  
  
"Hey, yeah!" She suddenly exclaimed, straightening up. "You were the guy with the  
cappuccino machine!" She slapped her free hand to her forehead. "God, everything  
makes sense now. I never put it together because your rig wasn't gyroscopic - when  
did you start out?" She suddenly rocked forward onto her knees, thoughtlessly pulling  
her wounded arm from Mara's hands and bringing her face uncomfortably close to mine.  
  
"Where's your machine?" She asked, with a strange look in her eyes that was at once  
desperate and exhilarated.  
  
"His machine is gone," Mara said, taking her arm again so that she could finish  
bandaging it. She pulled the Doctor back a bit more roughly than I would have  
expected, causing the woman to wince again.  
  
"Did you travel through time as well?" Kalen asked with interest.  
  
"Are you also a wandering idiot?" Tull asked at the same time, with mock innocence.  
Ayer and Madi snickered.  
  
Doctor Taylor opened her mouth as though she was about to speak to Kalen, but  
instead gaped at Tull, confused. "Aveh," Madi spoke a word of agreement to his  
fellows, and the boys snickered.  
  
I cleared my throat in the hopes of quieting them. "Forgive me - we did not  
complete our introductions," I said, changing the subject as best I could. "This  
is Ayer, Tull, Madi, Kalen, and Mara. I am..." I hesitated, but I wished to give  
this woman the proper respect due her title, if only to make her a little more at  
ease. "...Professor Alexander Hartdegen."  
  
Doctor Taylor snapped her mouth shut, blinking as she sat back. "That - that really  
does explain everything," she said simply, shaking her head. Then she extended her  
free hand, as though she knew better than to disturb Mara's work again. "I'm very  
pleased to meet you, Professor Hartdegen. What little of your work we could find was  
quite useful to our own project."  
  
I shook her hand, my questions answered without being asked. Some time after our  
brief meeting in New York, she (and several other scientists, from the sound of it)  
had also discovered the secret of time travel.  
  
She blinked again, hesitating as she withdrew her hand. "Have you -" she seemed to  
be sorting through something in her mind. "Yes, if your machine is... gone... then  
you must have met me already. I can't remember it very clearly, I'm sorry. That  
was... going on eight years ago, for me."  
  
I similarly tallied in my mind. "A bit more than seven months ago, for me," I  
informed her. "But tell us, what happened to you, since you fixed the Photonic?"  
  
The question gave her pause, and she closed her eyes. "I should have gone directly  
back to my machine, when I found that... that what I was after wasn't here. I was...  
I was trying to track down this big shockwave we detected... happened somewhen about  
now, plus or minus three years. Massive time distortion. It'll pretty much prove my  
time-model theory, if I can locate the source and use the vortex to..."  
  
She stopped herself. "Sorry. Going all technical there... That's rude in mixed  
company." She smiled a bit at Kalen and the boys - and then her expression melted  
into something rather like shock. "Oh..." She turned back to me. "You... you didn't...  
overload your machine, did you? You said it was gone..." She swallowed, appearing quite  
uncomfortable.  
  
"Alexander destroyed his machine, so that we could escape," Mara began. "He came to  
save me when -"  
  
But Doctor Taylor simply spoke over Mara, her breath quick and her skin quite pale,  
as though she'd just had a terrible scare. "Well... Well, I'm very glad that my  
theory holds... Under the single timeline theory, we should have ceased to exist."  
She gave me a rather nervous smile. "Whew! So you hit upon the timeweb theory on your  
own, didn't you? Of course you did..."  
  
I really didn't know what to make of her babbling. At my blank expression, her face  
went ashen again, and she put her head in her hands. "Oh... my... you... you twit."  
  
I've still no idea of what set her off so. Mara put out a hand to the Doctor's  
trembling shoulder, but the woman suddenly uncurled again, an unnaturally bright  
smile on her face. The boys actually looked concerned at her behavior, and Kalen  
moved a little closer to me.  
  
"I'll just not worry about that now," she said in a strained voice. "You asked about  
what happened. I went exploring, that's what happened. And when it got dark, I headed  
back to my machine, only it was gone. And then these... these _things_ came out of  
nowhere, and took me down a bunker and locked me up... I must have been down there  
for days before I got one of those monsters with my tazer and managed to get out.  
Took me forever to figure out where I was... I was heading back to Marian. Nothing  
better to do."  
  
"You were captured by Morlocks?" Kalen asked.  
  
"What's a tazer?" Ayer interrupted, quite interested in anything that could  
"get" a Morlock.  
  
"It gives electric shocks," Doctor Taylor said to the boy. "Doesn't matter, the  
battery died, and I lost it in this... swamp..." She scowled at the foliage about  
us. Now that the sun was up, the mist was burning away, it was becoming quite warm  
again. "What's a Morlock?"  
  
I was surprised when Mara answered before I could. "They were once people, like -  
like Alexander," she said, struggling for a frame of reference. "That is what their  
Lord told us. But they turned into monsters..." She shrugged.  
  
"And here I thought that Doctor Moreau had taken up residence,"  
Doctor Taylor grumbled.  
  
"I will explain to you later," I told her; I shall have to ask about her comment  
later. "Can you take us back to where you escaped from, or at least show us the  
way? These... these creatures have also captured my..." I faltered, and Mara  
turned to me. It still seemed odd to say it. "...My village's children..."  
  
Of course, we still had no idea if we had found the right Morlocks, and there was  
still the added factor of the kidnappers being Eloi. In fact, Doctor Taylor has  
made no indication of encountering Eloi in this area at all. However, her next words  
set our course of action in stone.  
  
"Those were your children?" She asked.  
  
And so we now set out again, with Doctor Taylor in the lead. She says that she  
intended to return to this underground in any case to retrieve her machine, after  
consulting Marian, which will be our first stop. She also gave us the greatest news  
that we could have hoped for: the children were still alive, as of when she had  
escaped, about two days ago.  
  
I shall write more when I can. Wish us luck, dear one.  
  
With hope,  
Alexander  
  
  
  
Author's Note: There are no coincidences. (cue X-Files theme)  
Look! Look! Info for Theed and anyone reading!  
fanfiction.net has finally put up an H.G. Welles category in the Books section.  
(There's nothing there yet, so you can't check it out... but we can upload to it!)  
I'll be moving my stuff there, but it will take re-uploading and deleting the stories  
in the current section, since it's not in the Movies section.  
That means we'd lose our feedbacks...  
so I'll be pasting mine into my chapter files as I re-upload. :-)  
(Maybe this will get me to go back to playing with "War of the Worlds" as I once did...)  
I won't be moving my stories 'till I'm done with this one, though, to reduce confusion.  
...might move the one-shot first, though. But not tonight...  
  
  
Anyway... more for Theed. Found, on amazon.com of all places,  
that... Emma's last name is Malloy. That's according to their movie cast, but  
that's the only place I've seen it (it's not even on the official site). Odd, eh?  
  
...And that's it from me... I'm going to bed.  
-Starherd 


End file.
